The Unsecret Dialogue of Hooligans

S tried her very best to keep a straight face as her friend J appeared without warning at the bar. S came every evening that J was on shift to have a milkshake (even while being given weird looks by other hard-core drinking patrons who likened milkshake in a bar to whores in a sexual health seminar.

J was grinning as she slid S’s gorgeous milkshake over to her, still not having noticed S’s clenched smile, and the very pained expression on the face of the man sitting next to S – whose face was the colour of a tomato and who, on closer inspection probably would not have been able to talk even if had decided to try and do so.

J tilted her head, and her eyes trailed S’s arms down to where it was clear S had clearly grabbed a handful of this poor man’s ‘junk’ – for reasons not yet determined – and was not about to let go.

J leaned over the counter to get a better look at the exact mechanics of the problem, and stared for the longest time, almost in awe at just how complicated that whole choke hold death grip thing that was going on looked. The gentleman in question had somehow managed to get his hand down there before S had, which meant he was effectively squeezing the life out of his own balls with the help of S. But to release his death grip at all, would mean S could just clamp down harder, so by the looks of things – they had been sitting in that position for some time. A delicate position really, and that was just one set of hands.

The other set was engaged in what l

ooked to be some sort of finger breaking war. The sudden jerks that kept happening when some pulled another persons finger in an attempt to break it were not helping the man at all in his efforts to keep his genitals in a still and safe position.

J took a sip of S’s milkshake, “S. Who is this man and why are you trying to rip his junk off?”

S huffed. “Babe. You HAVE to try and see this from my point of view… right?”

J: “Which is?”

S: “I walked in, right, and from the back – this dude TOTALLY looked like Donald Trump. But once I started… I couldn’t really just stop… and be like…    sorry…  I mistook you for an ugly

stupid asshole

. My bad…”


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